


To Heal With a Broken Touch

by fabulousdork



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Character Death, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Rehabilitation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:01:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabulousdork/pseuds/fabulousdork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Winchester is trying to put his life back together after a terrible accident that killed his girlfriend, Ruby, and landed him in juvenile detention. He struggles to mend his relationship with his brother, who finds it hard to trust Sam after the event that separated them for a long, lonely year. Now back at school, Sam is constantly isolated and harassed for his past actions, and is unsure if he can get past it. With the help of his family and friends new and old, Sam begins the long and tumultuous healing process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam woke up to the mundane trill of the alarm clock resting on the nightstand near his head. He lay there for a moment, unmoving, letting himself focus on the even rhythm of the silence between beeps. He lazily avoided getting out of bed until he felt a familiar gut-wrenching pull. He remembered that this was the day he had to face them.

He felt like crawling back into bed, calling in sick or just flat-out ditching, but he knew it was no use, Dean wouldn’t let that happen. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t go back, not after what happened last year. He pondered for a second, thinking about whether there was even a chance of things ever being normal again. He decided not, that things could never be normal, that he could never be normal. Not after this. Dreading anything bringing him closer to confronting the people at school, he refused to get up, letting the weight of his guilt and fear sink into the mattress below him. Sam sat still, letting his thoughts seize control, taking him to dark places within his own mind.

He thought of her- of Ruby, and how he used to be excited to come to school and see her. They used to sneak out, hiding behind the bleachers near the football fields. They would just sit there and smile and laugh. The nostalgia hit Sam hard, wanting it all back.

Then he remembered the bad times, when it all started. The times when they didn't just sit there and laugh. He recalled the first time he had done it. She had been pushing for months, persuading him to try it. He didn't agree with it, thought it was poison, and boy, he should've taken his own advice. But he was unhappy, filled with sadness and rage. At his father, at the way that he had grown up, at the hand he had been dealt, at the world in general, at himself. She told him it was the only way. He could finally escape the tears and anger and just be happy. The temptation was too great, and he eventually succumbed to the promises the drugs held.

All of the warmth and longing from before had since disappeared, replaced with feelings of hatred and disgust. For what she made him, what he had become. He needed it, it became a part of his life, until it became his life. Everything he did, every single action, was fueled by his addiction.

Sam absentmindedly scratched at the small scar at the crease of his elbow, marking the spot where the needle used to ease its way into Sam's vein, as it also eased its way into his life. Since his addiction, it had become a nervous tic, and Sam found himself subconsciously picking at it various times throughout the day. He remembered the day of the incident- Ruby's body laying there next to his own. Two bodies- one dead, the other might as well have been.

He remembered Dean bursting into his room, trying to get him up, trying to get him to safety. What his brother didn't realize was that Sam was so far gone.

Sam had struggled with the addiction for months before the incident, without Dean having any clue. He had been serving it, shooting up multiple times a day, just trying to feel okay. He knew that had no other choice, the pull was too strong. He remembered how he and Ruby had walked in that day, and only he had walked out. His emotions shifted once again, this time to guilt and sadness. Ruby was dead, and it was his fault.

The guilt weighed him down like heavy anchor, a burden he dragged with him everyday, wherever he went. He could've saved her if he had just-

"Sammy?" Sam heard Dean call from outside his door. He did not respond. A knock followed, three quick taps resonating off the wooden door.

"Sam, you awake?" Dean asked. Again, Sam stayed silent, concentrating on Ruby's face that night, before it happened. He couldn’t move, trapped within his own head, like a prison.

Dean opened the door slowly and carefully, as if he wasn't sure what to expect. Dean switched on the light, causing Sam to squint his eyes. He grabbed his pillow and pulled it over his head, drowning out the light from above.

"Sam, come on." Dean pried the pillow off Sam's face and tossed it to the end of the bed. He grabbed Sam's wrist and pulled him up to a sitting position. He looked at his little brother, how vulnerable he looked. Dean softened his expression.

"Listen to me. All of that? It's in the past. Put it all behind you and I promise, everyone else will, too," Dean said, although he was unsure whether he believed his own words. Sam looked up at his older brother with wide eyes and Dean gave a small pat on Sam's shoulder before leaving his room.

Sam slowly stood up, afraid of what might come next. He grabbed his clean clothes and changed, dropping his dirty ones carelessly on the floor. He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair a few times in lieu of actually brushing it. Sam tugged at the tongue of his sneakers and tied his shoes quickly before walking to the kitchen. When he got there, he witnessed a rare sight- Dean cooking. In his years, Sam had eaten food prepared by Dean countless times, but mostly to the extent of a PB & J sandwich or a microwave-ready meal. So it was a strange sight to see Dean mixing eggs, flour, sugar, and multiple other ingredients in a large ceramic bowl. Sam chuckled quietly at the effort his brother was putting into whatever he was making.

"Hey, Dean..." Sam said, causing Dean to turn around.

"Hiya, Sammy. Just making some ol' flapjacks, I know they used to be your favorite," Dean said, flashing a goofy smile.

Sam laughed and raised an eyebrow, "Flapjacks? Really? Who calls them that?" Dean poured a small circle of batter into the pan.

"Hey, you should be grateful I made you some real food! I could've let you eat some healthy crap like that rabbit food you like so much." The pancake sizzled, batter bubbling up. Dean slid his spatula underneath the pancake and flipped it over in one swift motion.

"They're called salads, Dean, and they're good for you. I hope your metabolism slows down someday and you get fat," Sam joked.

“Just shut up and eat your pancake,” Dean said as he flung the pancake from the fry pan to Sam’s plate. Sam thanked Dean and sat at the table, placing his plate in front of him. He reached over to grab the maple syrup. Dean sat next to Sam and gave him a sympathetic look. Sam knew what it meant, but chose to ignore the complicated conversation that was sure to ensue. He instead decided to drown his pancakes in sugary syrup.

“God, Sam, you want some pancakes with that syrup?” Dean teased, while making a point by pouring a small trickle of syrup on his own stack of pancakes. Sam just shrugged and continued eating.

“So, Sam… What are your plans for the day?” Dean asked, trying to ease into the conversation. He knew how hard it was for Sam to talk about anything related to what happened that night, but he also knew that it was imperative that Sam talk about it with someone, and who better than his own brother?

Sam looked up at Dean for a second, then back down at his plate.

“I don’t know,” Sam answered truthfully. And that was it.

\---

Dean didn’t push to continue the conversation because honestly, he didn’t know the right words to say. He hadn’t known how to deal with the incident, or really anything leading up to it- the drugs, the addiction. They had never really discussed it. To be honest, Dean was scared. Probably almost as scared as Sam was, if not more. They had never really dealt with the problem, just kind of pushed it away, ignored it, as if it would magically disappear if they left it long enough.

A part of Dean actually believed it, but mostly, he tried not to think about it. He couldn’t believe how much he had let Sammy down. Sam was hurting all that time, he needed help, and Dean didn’t even know. What kind of brother could be that ignorant? He could’ve helped him get clean- heck, he could’ve prevented the whole situation if he had just paid more attention to Sam. He had only one job- protect his little brother- and that was all, and he couldn’t even manage to do that.

Before he realized it, Dean had finished his plate of pancakes. He blinked a few times, recovering from zoning out before.

“Dean, you okay?” Sam said as he glanced over at Dean worriedly.

“Yeah, I’m fine- just a bit tired’s all,” Dean answered absentmindedly.

“Okay…” Sam replied, unsure of his brother’s answer.

Dean suddenly grabbed his plate and stood up quickly, placing it in the already overcrowded sink. He walked over to Sam and placed a hand on his back. “You know how I feel about chick-flick moments, so I’ll give you a pre-game speech instead. Now you are going to go in there and show them all what they are missing. And if any of them lay a single finger on you- they are dead. Got it?” Dean patted Sam on the back and grabbed his keys off of the kitchen counter.

Dean looked back at Sam as he opened the door.

“Well, are you coming?”

\---

Sam and Dean mostly sat in silence during the unusually long car ride to school. Neither one could think of anything to talk about except for the events of last year, and neither one particularly wanted to bring that up. After a few minutes, Dean had decided to turn on the radio. The sound of Led Zepplin’s “Ramble On” filled the car. The radio volume was matched only by Dean’s attempt at singing along to his favorite song.

Sam peered at the ridiculousness of his brother rocking out to his music, but was secretly comforted by the familiarity of it. He remembered Dean doing this since Dean was probably five years old. Sam was reminded of how he used to wish every day that he could be as cool as his brother. Thinking about it now, Sam still did. Sam always had trouble fitting in at school. He was always the kid who was picked on, but never wanted to fight back. People always figured it was because he was weak, but the truth was that it was because he was strong. Sam knew he could beat any of those kids in a fight, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

Sam had never had too many friends. He had enough- but not very many. He was a strong believer in the mantra “quality, not quantity” in who he chose to be acquainted with. He also happened to have trouble talking to girls, which was a mix of his lack of social status and his shyness. Sam was mostly quiet and kept to himself, but once in awhile he would let his guard down - usually getting hurt in the process.

Ruby was a prime example. She had been a new student the year before, as he had, and had an instant, undeniable confidence about her. She was utterly intimidating, and gorgeous- and to be honest- scared the crap out of Sam. He found himself fascinated with her, and after admiring her from afar for a few months, she turned around and said,

“Are you going to ask me out or just stare at the back of my head all year?” That was the moment when Sam knew that he was wrapped around her finger.

\---

Sam jolted as Dean took a sharp turn into the school parking lot.

Dean pulled up to the closest row of parking spots available and pulled out the key.

The two brothers just sat in silence for a few minutes, neither daring to move or speak a word.

“You gonna be alright today?” Dean asked Sam, concerned.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be fine,” Sam replied, more to himself than Dean.

Sam took a deep breath before opening the car door and bracing himself for the unavoidably long day ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was worried about Sam. He wondered how everyone was going to react to him being back. Dean knew things weren’t going to be by any means easy, but he hoped Sam could manage a fairly subtle transition back into school. He wanted to just ignore what everyone else thought, but he knew, as a 16-year-old boy, Sam couldn’t just ignore everything and live his life peacefully locked away from everyone else. At least Dean had slight peace of mind with the fact that he knew Sam could protect himself if he had to. One of the few upsides to living in a military family with a mostly-absent father. In place of actually being there, Dean and Sam’s father had taught them how to fight in case anything ever happened to them. The training had paid off more than a few times for Dean, but Sam didn’t like to use his natural talent to fight. He would rather try and reason with someone while getting his face pounded in.

Sam was worried, too. He wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. He figured some people would give him dirty looks, a few comments here and there, and mostly ignore him, but when he got to school, he had to face the reality that he had no idea what he was going in to. Dean and he had said their quick goodbyes before Sam left to go to class. Dean waited patiently in the school parking lot until his little brother entered the school. Sam had tried to keep his head down and avoid attention, but he could feel the burning glares of every student in the hallway. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and just hoped that no one would approach him.

Sam soon faced the truth that you can’t always get what you want. Sam hesitantly lifted his head for a second, instantly met by four-unfortunately- familiar faces. They were exactly the last people he needed to see right now. The closest one to him was Benny Lafitte, who used to actually be a friend of Sam’s. Once the news of Ruby’s death caught wind, people started digging. They tried their hardest to find out what killed her, as the police kept it strictly confidential. Once they began digging, the truth came pouring out like water out of a broken dam- once it started, it couldn’t be stopped. Once students at Sam’s school found out about his terrible secret, they wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Even his closest friends had turned their backs on him. Sam was no stranger to being alone, but he had never felt pain or loneliness anywhere near how he felt after the accident. The emptiness he felt at school after the accident was matched only by the way he felt when he arrived at the Douglas County Juvenile Detention Center. There he had absolutely no one- not even his brother- to rely on or talk to.

Sam was going through probably the hardest thing he’d ever experienced, and he was completely alone.

Sam then noticed the other three surrounding Benny: Zachariah, who was known for his cruel ways- considered more than just your standard bully, Benny’s step-sister, Bela Talbot, who always had a certain deceptive aura around her, and Rowena, who was pretty much an evil queen. Let’s just say the quartet was not a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, today was the day that they decided that they would ruin Sam’s life, as if it wasn’t already messed up enough.

Sam was unsure what to do- confrontation was inevitable. He decided it was best to just stand there and brace himself for whatever was coming next. They called Sam all of the things he was thinking himself. Freak. Killer. Murderer. Monster. Sam froze- he wasn’t going to fight back. How could he defend himself when he thought the same things about himself that they were voicing? He deserved this- he was all of the terrible things they called him- and more.

He was like a broken mirror- you could try and put the pieces back together- but when you look at your reflection, it’s never truly the same. How Sam saw himself was distorted, he was made up of fragmented pieces that never really fit quite right, full of chips and scratches. He was irreparable.

Sam continued to allow the group to harass him- helpless against their manipulative words. He stood there until his hands started shaking and his vision blurred. He started to stumble away.

“I-I have to go,” He mumbled as he tried to escape towards class.

Zachariah grabbed him and pushed him back.

“Where exactly do you think you’re going? We aren’t done with you yet.” A smirk crept up onto his menacing lips.

Sam felt himself wobbling, he knew he would fall over any second. He wanted to spare himself the embarrassment- he really didn’t need it after everything else that was happening.

“Uh, I gotta- get to class,” Sam struggled to let out, his breathing becoming shallow. He felt so detached from his surroundings. He heard people talking, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He saw fuzzy shapes, but not people. All he knew is that he had to get out of there.

He tried, once again to stumble away, this time met with and even harder shove from Zachariah, which left Sam dazed on the floor. He felt like he was drowning, his breath only coming in uneven gasps. He saw the outlines of Zachariah, Bela, Benny, and Rowena walk away, followed by laughter and varied insults.

Sam tried to stand up, but he stumbled back down, too weak to lift himself. He felt himself hyperventilating, his heart practically beating out of his chest. The logical part of his brain told him to calm down, but he couldn’t. He wanted to cry and scream, but nothing came out but choked noise. He felt eyes staring at him, but no one helped. Sam knew Dean was already long gone, probably on his way to Bobby’s garage. He felt like he was dying, and he just wanted it to be over.

Just as Sam felt completely hopeless, he felt two hands softly grip his shoulders. He tried to look up, but he couldn’t make out the person’s face, his vision still fuzzy. He heard a soft, gentle voice speak. He couldn’t understand what the mystery girl was saying, but the comforting tone of her voice was enough for Sam to try and concentrate. He tried really hard to focus on the sound of her voice.

“Sam? Can you hear me? Sam, I need you to calm down,” The girl said, moving the grip of her hands down to his arm, her touch delicate, as if Sam were capable of crumbling into dust with one touch.

“I- uh,” Sam muttered incomprehensibly, his breath still ragged, but his vision returning slightly to normal.

“Good, Sam. Just take deep breaths and concentrate on my voice, okay?” The girl said. Sam could now see that she had blond hair that fell in tight waves around her face, and sensitive, yet intense eyes- blue-grey, like clouds right before a thunderstorm. She looked vaguely familiar, Sam thought she might’ve been in a few of his classes last year before the incident, but he didn’t quite remember her name.

“O-Okay,” Sam centered on her voice, taking deep breaths like she had said to. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the flow of air in and out of his burning lungs.  
She looked at Sam with a concerned expression on her face.

“Okay, Sam, do you think you can stand up? Here- I’ll help you,” She stood up and extended a hand towards Sam to grab onto.

Sam grabbed her hand, small and fragile compared to his own brawny ones. He pulled himself up, with the help of the mystery girl.

“Okay, Sam, now we are going to try to walk over to that bench, okay?” The blonde girl said and pointed across the hallway to a bench positioned against the wall.  
Sam nodded, and tried to take a step and faltered, falling to his knees. His vision started blurring again, his heart beating too fast. He felt the girl’s arms pulling him back up.

“Okay, Sam, good. We can make it, look, it’s not too far,” The girl said in an encouraging tone. She wrapped one arm around Sam to steady him.

Sam continued walking, staggering a few times, but the stormy-eyed girl helped him get to the bench. She returned her hands to his shoulders, helping him lower himself onto the bench without falling again. She sat next to Sam and placed a hand on his back shoulder blade.

“See, Sam? We made it. You’re okay,” The girl said. She placed her hand on his knee, trying to alleviate some of the fear that Sam was experiencing.

Sam looked around and noticed all of the people still staring. How did this girl act like no one was around? How could she so clearly set herself apart by helping an outcast? Why would she help Sam, anyways? He didn’t do anything to deserve it.

By focusing his energy on his anger, rather than fear, Sam felt his heart slow to a normal pace and he was able to breathe regularly. He turned to look at the girl who had saved him. He had noticed her eyes the color of the last ashes of a fire and sun-gold hair before, but it took until now to realize truly how beautiful she was. She tucked a small strand of golden hair behind her ear.

“Jess, by the way,” She said, as she smiled at Sam.

“I’m Sam,” He replied.

She laughed quietly, “I know,”

Sam remembered how she had used his name when talking him through everything and blushed slightly.

“Was that your first one?” Jess asked, looking at Sam like he actually mattered- a feeling that was pretty foreign to him.

Sam wasn’t sure what she was talking about, and he tilted his head the slightest bit to the side in confusion.

“Your first panic attack,” Jess elaborated, seeming oddly chill about the whole thing.

“That was a...” Sam said, trying to take the concept in.

“Yep, a panic attack. I used to get them all the time when I was younger, I figured that you needed a little bit of help,” She said, smiling.

Sam smiled back at her and said the first somewhat intelligent thing he had said all day, “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, really,” Jess said, “I just knew that if I was in that situation, that’s what I would want.”

Sam was starting to feel the most normal he had felt all day.

Jess blushed when she realized that her hand was still resting on Sam’s knee. She started to pull away, and Sam grabbed her hand with both of his.

“Thank you. I really mean it,” Sam said, as he looked into her eyes with conviction.

Jess blushed slightly as Sam set her hand down carefully, and said quietly, “Okay.”

“Now, why don’t you let me walk you to class?” Sam asked with a smile.

Jess raised an eyebrow in amusement, “Are you kidding me? I’m walking you to class.”

Sam chuckled, “Okay, if you insist.”

“Where are you headed?” Jess asked as she stood up, offering her hand to Sam.

Sam obliged and grabbed her hand for support.

“Um... ,” Sam reached in his back pocket for the copy of his schedule he had picked up from the school office.

He held the schedule out and read it slowly, “Um, I have…” Sam squinted at the paper.

“Pre-calc, room 104.” Sam said, hoping Jess’s class was nearby.

“Really?” Jess said excitedly, “That’s my class, too.”

She smiled at Sam and grabbed his hand to lead him, “Come on.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sam walked with her and thought about the way her hand felt against his, as if they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle that unexpectedly interlock. Sam started to think about how a puzzle is made up of tiny, scattered pieces to form a bigger picture, and he thought that maybe he was a bit like a long-lost puzzle piece. Maybe he just had to find the rest of his pieces.

The loud, irritating ringing of the school bell buzzed throughout the halls.

“Crap,” Jess muttered under her breath, “We’re late.”

“I’m so sorry Jess- it’s my fault.” Sam tried to apologize. God, he even messes up the lives of people he barely knows.

“No, really, it’s okay,” Jess shook her head, “Maybe Mr. McLeary will understand.”

Sam looked at Jess thoughtfully, scanning every detail of her face. He was trying to find out her angle, why she was acting like this. He couldn’t think of one reason that a girl like her would even associate herself with a trainwreck like him.

Jess sharply pulled Sam around the corner, and motioned down the hall.

“Almost there, see? Might as well hurry up, so we aren’t as late.” Jess sped up a bit as she talked.

Sam chuckled lightly.

“What? What’s so funny?” Jess asked, looking at him.

“It’s nothing, just- it’s funny that you are trying to get to class so fast even though you’re already late,” Sam said with a smirk.

“Well, I don’t want it on my record, I’ve never been late before,” Jess said, unsure if she should be offended by Sam’s laughter or not.

Sam stopped for a second and widened his eyes.

“Wait- let me get this straight- you’ve never been late to class. As in ever?” He asked, astounded.

Jess blushed and looked at her feet, “Yup.”

Sam blinked, “Wow, that’s so crazy- impressive actually.”

Jess looked up slightly and teased, “Yep, I can’t believe I wasted my first time on you.”

Sam laughed and pretended to be offended as they kept walking, “To be honest, neither can I.”

The two stopped in front of the door.

Jess looked at Sam, “Ready?”

Sam nodded his head slightly and opened the door.

The school announcements were just starting to play over the loudspeaker.

Sam stepped into the classroom, followed by Jess and the eyes of everyone in the class.

“I’m sorry we’re late, Mr. McLeary, I was trying to help Sam out, it’s his first day back,” Jess said quickly.

“Sir, really, it’s my fault for keeping Jess from getting here on time, I wasn’t sure where class was, and she helped me get here,” Sam interjected to keep Jess from getting in trouble.

Mr. McLeary looked at the pair in deep thought, most likely thinking about whether he would let them off the hook or not.

“First of all Jess, I realize this is your first time being late, so I’ll let you off with a warning. Sam, I understand you got back from-” He paused for a second before continuing his lecture, “However, you need to understand that there are certain rules in place and it is imperative that you respect them. Consequently, I will see you in detention tomorrow after school,” Mr. McLeary said with a tone of finality in his voice.

Jess opened her mouth to object, but Sam cut her off.

“I understand, sir, I won’t let it happen again.” 

Jess shot a look at Sam before taking her seat.

“Mr. Winchester, there is an open seat behind Mr. Tran, unless you would like to stand all day,” Mr. McLeary said, met with a few snickers from the class.

Sam looked over to meet the eyes of Kevin Tran, who used to be one of his closest friends before the accident last year. He hadn’t talked to Kevin since, mostly because Kevin tried his hardest to avoid Sam completely.

Sam silently took his seat behind his old friend and glanced over at Jess for reassurance.

“Are you okay?” Jess mouthed to him from across the room.

Sam nodded subtly and half-smiled back at her.

The rest of the class was fairly normal, save a bit boring with a few dirty looks and snickers thrown in the mix. As soon as the bell rang, Sam was out of there and waited in the hallway for Jess.

She walked out of the classroom carrying her textbooks and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She looked at him sympathetically, “I’m so sorry that people treat you that way.”

Sam’s heart dropped. So that’s what it was. Sam was Jess’s charity case. She talked to him to make herself seem like a better person. She was such a hero for talking to troubled Sam, the misunderstood boy. Sam didn’t want to leave her, but he wasn’t about to be anyone’s charity case.

“Thanks, but I think it’s time for me to go” Sam said, shakily. It was hard to walk away, Jess was the only one who had even shown the slightest bit of kindness towards him, but he wanted something real, not her pity.

He started walking down the hallway, he had to get away from her. Even if there was a chance that she was sincere, he knew he would end up ruining her life anyways.  
“Sam, wait-” He heard Jess call down the hallway, but he was already gone. 

\---

Sam sped through the hallway, both his heart and mind racing. He knew Jess was probably trying to follow him to make sure he was okay, which would consequently make her late again. God, he caused so many issues wherever he went. He could never just be, he always would cause destruction and hurt people. Even if they forgave Sam, how could he forgive himself, knowing all the terrible things these people went experienced- all because of him? 

Sam felt burning tears well up in his eyes, and he blinked them away, knowing that this was not the time and place. He quickly glanced over his shoulder to check if Jess was still there, and saw her concerned face in the sea of students staring at him once again. He still heard her calling out his name.

“Sam!” It rung in his ears each time she repeated it.

Sam looked around, frantically looking for a place to escape to. He saw some bathrooms at the end of the hall, and quickly dove inside, desperate to avoid confrontation by Jess. He shut the door behind him, and leaned his back on the wall next to it, trying to catch his breath for the second time that morning.  
Jess pounded on the door.

“Sam, come out! I can help you, but you have to tell me what’s wrong!” Jess pleaded.

Sam sat in the bathroom until she finally gave up, probably figuring she didn’t want her first and second tardies to be in the same day.

He waited until he knew for a fact that she was long gone, and opened the door hesitantly. Once he saw that she was gone, Sam pulled out his schedule.   
“Chemistry with Mrs. Clarke, room 137.” Sam said to himself quietly. 

He looked around and saw that he was on the corner of the 110-120 classrooms and the 130-140 classrooms, and that room 137 was at the very end.  
He checked his watch and saw that he had 26 seconds to get to class. He started quickened his pace to get there on time. Usually, Sam didn’t care much about being punctual, in fact he ditched pretty often last year, but it being his first day back, he wanted to make a good impression. Sam decided that since he was turning over a new leaf, he would try and make an effort to be on time to class every day.

Sam walked in the science room doors just before the bell rang. He looked around awkwardly at all the students situated in their desks, trying to find an extra one.  
“You are Sam, I’m assuming?” A younger teacher, probably in her mid-to late-20s asked.  
Sam nodded silently.

She was definitely a new teacher, Sam didn’t remember her from last year, but he could also tell by the way she acted towards him that she didn’t know much about his past, or she did and just decided to ignore it. Sam guessed it was the former, although he knew it wouldn’t last long.  
“So, it seems that we don’t have enough desks, so you can pull up a chair and share with someone else if you’d like. I’ll have another desk ready for you by the end of the week, I promise.” Mrs. Clarke said, looking at Sam apologetically.

Sam glanced around to find someone to share a desk with. He decided on one of a few options: a girl with shoulder-length wavy hair, a blonde color, but not like Jess’. This girl’s hair was a little bit darker and not as curly. She had deep brown eyes and looked like she could handle anything that came her way, a trait Sam found respectable, especially in a friend, if that’s what he was looking to get out of this. His other choice was a scrawny, awkward-looking kid with ears and a nose that were a bit too big for his face. He had a grin plastered across his face, but the look on his face made it seem like there was no specific reason behind it, he was just a happy person.

Sam decided to sit next to the boy, who seemed like he wouldn’t give Sam a hard time. He dragged a chair over to the boy’s desk, and sat down with a small smile. Once the boy noticed Sam, he looked quite nervous, like he was scared of him. Sam wasn’t used to this, he was more used to people being violent or offensive about his past. Most of the people just ignored him- they were probably scared, but didn’t show it outwardly. This boy, however, was visibly anxious, he looked like he was about to run right out the door. 

“Hi, I’m Sam,” Sam offered, hoping not to scare him any more than he already was.

“I-I know- Not that I really know you, just of you- I just..” The boy said tensely, avoiding eye contact.

“And your name is…?” Sam asked.

“Garth Fitzgerald the Fifth. But most people just call me Garth. You can call me whatever you want, though…” The boy- Garth- trailed off and looked down again.  
“Well, thanks for letting me share a desk, Garth,” Sam said with a small nod.

Sam tuned in to the teacher’s lesson, which happened to be about bonds. She lectured on about the different types of bonds: covalent, ionic, hydrogen, and told the class that certain types of bonds were stronger than others. Sam thought about how that applied not only to science, but people as well. He thought about his bond with his father, which wasn’t very strong, and likely negative, if talking in chemistry terms. He had a very strong bond with his brother, seemingly unbreakable. Sam reflected upon his relationship with Dean. He thought about how the bond between them was considerably weaker than before the incident, and before Ruby, at all, even.

“The first type of bond is ionic,” The teacher explained, “In which one atom gives and one receives.”

Sam thought about his relationship with Ruby. How he was always giving, and Ruby always received. It was a one-sided relationship- he loved her, God, he loved her so much, even though he knew she was poison. Ruby, on the other hand, didn’t love Sam. Looking back, he didn’t think she was capable of love, or any feelings at all. She was a first-rate sociopath, and Sam just let her take advantage of him all in the name of “love”, or whatever you could call the messed up little world between the two of them. Ruby was the only person Sam knew that was even more screwed up than him.

“The second type of bond is covalent,” Mrs. Clarke continued, “In which two atoms share electrons.”

Sam contemplated her words, and thought about how he wanted a relationship more like that. One where him and the other person could share things and experiences, and feelings, rather than just give and take.

His mind drifted to Jess, and he wondered if the two of them could have anything like that. He quickly shook the idea out of his head, remembering earlier that morning. Sam thought that receiving pity from Jess was even worse than receiving nothing from Ruby.

He glanced at the clock, and realized that class was practically over. He heard the teacher wrap up the lesson, and everyone packed up their belongings. Sam slung his backpack over one shoulder and stood up, waiting for the bell to ring. As he heard it, everyone rushed out the door, and Sam followed.

He glanced around in the hallway, to see if Jess was there. He didn’t know what he would do if he saw her. Part of him wanted to avoid her- and all of the other things that would ensue. Another part of him wanted to see her so badly, she was the only comforting part of his whole day, he didn’t have anyone else. None of his old friends would even make eye contact with him, let alone talk to him or lend moral support.

Sam pulled out his schedule for the third time that day, and saw that his next class was English, which, fortunately, was always his favorite class. He had it with Mr. Shurley. He vaguely remembered the teacher from last year, maybe Kevin had him. Sam knew for sure that he had been there last year, unlike Mr. McLeary and Mrs. Clarke, who must’ve been new teachers.

Sam read the room number: 215. That was upstairs. Sam looked down the hallway and followed until he reached the staircase. He went up the stairs, trying to ignore the never-ending glares and comments that had been following him the whole morning. Sam just kept his head down and tried to find his classroom silently.

Sam found the door and walked in, met by a body slamming into his own. He looked up to see a familiar face. 

“Well, hey there, stranger, didn’t think I’d see you so soon,” She said with a smirk, a vaguely sinister tone in her voice.


	4. Chapter 4

“Meg.” Sam said coldly, not meeting her eyes.

She was a friend of Ruby’s, if you could even call her that. More like a mutual junkie who got pleasure from other people’s pain. So she was pretty much the last thing Sam needed right now, besides maybe Crowley, his former dealer. Sam knew that if Crowley knew he was back, he would try his hardest to crack Sam, and make him relapse. Sam knew that he wasn’t strong enough yet, he might not be able to resist any deal that Crowley tried to make.

“So, little Sammy, how did you like it down in the old kiddie slammer?”Meg’s harsh words were met with a hint of amusement.

“It’s Sam.” He replied, and pushed past her, his eyes never leaving the ground.

Sam looked up once he was well past her, to see the most interesting classroom that he had ever encountered.

The back wall was filled with shelves containing rows of old typewriters, slowly collecting dust. On the two side walls were continuous sets of bookcases, filled with all different types of books, arranged by category. Sam looked around to see labels of sci-fi, fantasy, historical fiction, autobiographies, and even reference books. Sam noticed the unorganized piles of books lying everywhere, along with the messy jumble of papers enveloping Mr. Shurley’s desk.

The scruffy-looking man was sitting cross-legged on top of his desk, greeting students as they entered. Every few seconds he would turn to his own typewriter and click away a few words. Sam was surprised by the teacher’s unkempt appearance, but found it oddly comforting. It was as if he recognized something in the man that reminded him of himself, nervous and insecure, yet full of good intentions. However, Sam could see the vast difference between he and Mr. Shurley, one a recovering drug addict responsible for murder, the other someone who genuinely helped and cared about people. One a creator, one a destroyer.

Sam shook his head, reentering real life after zoning out. Students had started filing into class, filling up each desk, one by one. Sam stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, waiting for Mr. Shurley to direct him to a seat or offer an uncomfortable introduction to a class of people who had already formulated their opinions of him.  He recognize a few faces as they drifted in, the same blonde girl from the last class, and Rowena. Oh God, he hoped to be as far away from her as humanly possible. The rest of the class ambled in, and Sam knew the routine: stand in front of a room full of people who all hated him, or were scared of him, but nothing was worse than the pity. At least he could understand the hatred or the fear, those were accounted for, but the pity- Sam couldn’t think of one reason why anyone would feel bad for him. Why would any person in their right mind feel sympathy towards a freak like him? 

What happened then was not what Sam was expecting. Instead of the standard introduction, Mr. Shurley said, “Okay, guys, this is Sam. He’s in our class now. Doesn’t matter if you like him or hate him, you’re gonna put up with it. Sound good?” 

Sam wasn’t sure how to react, but as it was a change from earlier teachers’ tactics, he was willing to go along with Mr. Shurley’s deal-with-it attitude. After the teacher spoke, he gestured at Sam to take a seat, and this time, Sam chose to sit by the feisty-looking girl.

“Hi, I’m Sam,” he swallowed nervously at he sat in the empty desk.

“Trust me, kid, I know,” the girl replied, “I’m Jo, nice to meet you.”

She extended her hand to Sam, an unexpected friendly gesture. Sam was taken aback by this small token of warmth in such a frigid environment.

“Have you never done a handshake before?” Jo asked impatiently.

“No, I’m just surprised that’s all. I was expecting you to hate me like everyone else,” Sam replied.

“Well let’s get a few things straight. One- I’m not ‘everyone else’, and two- why would I hate you? I’ve never even met you. Sure, we’ve all got skeletons in our closets, some people just hide them better. Hasn’t your mother ever told you not to judge a book by its cover?” The girl said frankly.

Sam appreciated her outlook, wishing more people thought like her, and showed his gratitude with a small “Thank you” before returning his focus to Mr. Shurley, who was talking about how to get over writer's block. Sam drifted in and out of concentration throughout the class period, catching enough to know what was going on, but never fully paying attention. He felt a constant gnawing at the back of his head, and was desperate to keep it locked in. He wanted to avoid thinking about that day, because he knew how it felt for the images to start flooding into his brain. But even more so, he didn’t want to think about how badly he needed to get high. About how he wanted to go to Meg, or Crowley, or anyone, and take the pain away.

“Sam, you’re bleeding,” Jo said, sounding concerned. Her voice interrupted his delusions, and he realized his fingertips were covered in sticky, red blood. He was confused, he didn’t feel himself bleeding, but soon realized that he had scratched the spot on his elbow raw, and the point where the needle had pierced his skin countless times was now reopened, along with the feelings that overrun him before. He had to get his fix.

The bell rang, and Sam left for lunch, still unsure whether he wanted to see Jess or not. As a junior, he had open campus, and could walk home if he chose to, but he was afraid he wouldn’t have the strength to come back for his afternoon classes. So Sam decided to wander. He wasn’t sure where he was going or where he would end up. All he knew was that he needed to avoid Zachariah and his gang or he would be in serious trouble.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam roamed the halls, somewhat frantic, while also absentminded. Sam let himself follow the route of his subconscious, turning around corners, stumbling down the halls. He received glances, and could feel eyes burning his skin with their stares. His mind was racing, his thoughts moving too fast to comprehend, actions occurring before he even realized. He could feel his legs moving, his worn-out old shoes skidding along the tile floors, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about everything and nothing all at once, his brain being reverted back to a primitive state of desire, or rather compulsion to do what he had to. 

Sam walked with a sense of urgency, everything else blocked out by his basic instinct to find the one person who knew how to help him right now.

He pushed his way out of the hallway and out the back entrance to the school. He passed the buzzing tables of students eating their lunches with friends, laughing. He shook his head slightly, wondering where everything went wrong. Then he remembered. 

He tried to stop himself. 

_This is_ such _a bad idea. Remember what happened last time. Remember._

But even though Sam’s mind said one thing, his body craved another.

His thoughts reverted back to his task at hand. He needed to find him. The only person who could help him deal.

Sam’s eyes brushed over his surroundings. He took a moment to stop and think about what he was doing. But then again, he really didn’t need to. Sam knew exactly what he was doing.

He spotted his savior in the place he knew he would be, the same spot he always resided. Sam took a deep breath, swallowed, and continued on.

He opened his mouth to yell to him, but no words came out. He walked faster towards Crowley, the one who had kept him hooked so hard. He needed to buy some, see the white powder tightly packed in the little bag. He needed to feel it coursing through his veins. He needed to-

“Sam!” A voice called out from across the yard. 

_ No. No no no no. Please don’t let it be- _

It was Jess, frantically scouring the grounds looking for him.

Sam walked faster towards his old “friend”, trying to keep away from the blonde girl and stay out of her line of vision. He soon arrived at the spot near the bleachers where he and Ruby had hung out. A wave of nausea-filled nostalgia washed over him, but he pushed through.

“Well, well well, back already, Moose?” The condescending teen said, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“Shut up and just give it to me already,” Sam said, seething.

He could almost feel it- God, the anticipation was killing him. He needed it  _ now. _

“Not… so… fast,” Crowley smirked, walking painstakingly slow around Sam.

“You  _ know _ I have certain… terms… that you must accept before we make our little bargain, yes?” 

Sam couldn’t handle it. He reached out for the small man, his face a smoldering crimson. He was prepared to do anything-  _ anything- _ he had to. He just-

“Sam!” The voice called out once again. This time much closer.

Before Sam could even turn all the way around, he was face-to-face with Jess.

“Sam, what the hell are you doing?” 

It only took one glance of the situation for her to realize what was happening.

“Really?  _ Really, Sam _ ? You’re really gonna do this right now? What is wrong with you? You have a chance. Yeah, your girlfriend died, and it’s sad, but  _ you have a second chance. _ Get that through your head. Are you really going to let her have died in vain? Or are you going to actually do something?” 

Sam opened his mouth to talk, but was interrupted by Jess.

“Do something, Sam,  _ anything _ . Go fix what was broken before. Because right now, what you’re doing? You’re letting everyone down, Sam. You’re letting your friends down, you’re letting Dean down, but most of all, you’re letting yourself down. You could do so much better. God, you  _ deserve  _ so much better. Just- think about what you’re getting yourself into, okay? I’m done.” 

Jess looked at Sam with an unreadable expression. It looked like disgust, contempt, and acrimony all rolled into one. But Sam thought he could trace a bit of- sadness? Maybe remorse? It seemed like Jess’ words had a deeper meaning than solely as a warning to Sam, but he didn’t have time to decipher it.

Jess turned and left without another word.

Sam tried to go after her but his feet were stuck, planted. His throat caught, his words unable to escape. He just stood there.

And he watched her leave.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam watched Jess as she walked away. He waited for her to turn around, come back and help him. Talk to him, hold his hand,  _ anything. _

_ No, that’s stupid,  _ Sam thought.  _ I barely even  _ know _ her and I’m expecting her to help  _ me _? What is wrong with me? _

Sam struggled with his internal thoughts for a moment before being so abruptly brought back to the real world.

“So… about our deal…?” Crowley returned to the subject hopefully.

“You can take ‘our deal’ and shove it up your ass.” Sam remarked, his words dripping with loathing.

He then gathered up the strength to walk away. To walk away from Crowley, from ‘their deal’, from the life. Sam vowed to never go back. He pictured Dean’s face when he first found out, then Jess’ just a minute ago. He couldn’t do that to them. He was  _ done hurting people _ . Done hurting the people he cared about.

He cared about Jess? How could he care about Jess? He just met her. But she cared about him. Why? 

Sam returned to his question from this morning:  _ Why?  _ Why did Jess care at all? Why would she actually try to help him when he did nothing to deserve it? Why was she not driven away like everyone else?

Earlier, Sam had thought it was pity.

No, that isn’t it. If it were pity she wouldn’t have been here. She wouldn’t have come and looked for Sam, and stopped him. She wouldn’t have put herself in a dangerous situation solely out of commiseration. No, this- this was personal for her. But why?

Sam shook his head, trying to regain focus. By this time, he was already back near the school. Near the groups of friends buzzing happily over lunch. It made him sad, seeing all of these happy people, knowing he could never be that way.

He looked around for those golden waves that had pulled him out of his panic this morning. He then spotted the back of Jess’ head as she continued through the crowds, marching away determinedly. Sam had to give her credit, he would’ve expected her to have turned around by now.

“Jess!” He called, trying to maintain sight of her as she walked away. She still refused to look back. 

“Jess!” Sam yelled again. She still took long strides, not acknowledging Sam calling out to her.

Just then the warning bell rang. 

_ Well, shit. _

Sam knew the policy- two tardies in a day was marked as a truancy. And he was  _ not _ about to explain that to Dean on top of the detention he had already received earlier that day.

He hesitantly turned away from Jess, as his next class was the other direction. He painfully continued on to class, his bag slung over one shoulder.

Sam arrived, desperately hoping to find her face in his classroom. Though not unexpected, Jess was not there.

Sam felt his stomach drop as he realized who  _ was  _ in his class, though. Zachariah and Benny sat in the back corner of the room.

Sam slunk into the room discreetly, sitting in the desk nearest to the door. He tried to be very inconspicuous, avoiding the boys’ attention.

However, it only took a minute for Zachariah to recognize his prey, giving a creepily large smile, not unlike the Cheshire Cat.

Sam felt himself shiver, not out of coldness, but out of fear. He wasn’t concerned about class, but what would happen afterwards.

He knew Jess would not be there to help him this time.

For the thousandth time that day, Sam was jolted back into reality when the bell rang and the teacher began to give some boring speech about why learning history was important.

Sam tuned out, not absorbing one word of the teacher’s lecture. Instead, his mind was plagued with fear. All he could think about was what would happen after he left the class. Sam wasn’t sure he’d be able to escape in time. He didn’t know how long it would take him to get to his next class, which was- Sam checked his schedule- Latin.

At least he was good at Latin. He and Dean had found old books in their house when they were little, and the books were completely written in Latin. Their father, John, had learned Latin in school as a child, so the boys had asked him to translate for them. Once John saw the books, he had immediately said no. The boys didn’t know why he refused, but after incessant asking, John finally obliged. He taught the boys how to read and speak Latin. The boys then became infatuated with the books, which happened to be about mythical monsters, spirits, and such. They made sure to pack the books each time they moved houses. They were one of the only things the boys had kept with them every time.

Sam imagined the book, as he had memorized the whole thing years ago. He mentally paged through the leatherback, recollecting the names and habits of each creature. He did this for the whole of the period, never listening to the teacher’s rant about how ‘Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492’. 

He glanced over the clock, realizing there were only a few minutes left of class. He began to sweat, unsure what to do to evade Zachariah and Benny. He watched the hands move, internalized every slow  _ tick, tick, tick. _ The moment had arrived, and as the bell rang, Sam decided to just try and flee as quickly as he could.

He stumbled out the door, oblivious to whether the two were right behind him or not. He wasn’t thinking, he just moved. Not too quickly- he didn’t want to draw even more attention to himself- Sam fled the classroom, taking a sharp right down the hallway.

He spotted his Latin room at the end. Sam contemplated- he wasn’t sure whether to check behind him or keep moving, but he decided on the latter. He subtly quickened his pace, anxious to get to his next class before the two boys could catch up. 

At last, Sam reached the door, and without hesitation, strode in. There were only a few people in the class, and Sam picked one of the many open seats, separated from the rest of the class. He did  _ not  _ want to deal with anymore rude comments, dirty looks or other drama today. He just wanted to  _ be,  _ to be left alone in peace for a few minutes.

“Hello, class,” A middle-aged woman said, as she passed around worksheets to each student.

She looked over to Sam once she noticed his presence.

“Excuse me, young man. Will you please move up and fill an open seat?” she asked politely, and Sam gathered his things and sat next to a girl who seemed exceedingly friendly and talkative. 

She was a change from the negativity of the rest of the day, but obnoxious nonetheless.

_ There goes my chances of a little peace and quiet. _

“Hi, I’m Becky. And you’re Sam.” The girl said in an annoying, sing-song voice.

“But, I mean you probably know that. I mean, of course you know that, it’s your name.” She rambled on, her high-pitched voice piercing Sam’s head.

_ This will be a fun period. _

The teacher explained the worksheet, occasionally writing examples on the whiteboard.

“So, Sam,” Becky said in an abrasive whisper.

Sam looked over at her, irritated, but decided to indulge her.

“Yes, Becky?” He said, clearly bothered.

“So, are you like normal now? Like a non-druggie and stuff? Because if you are, that’s super cool,” Becky said.

“Are you serious right now?” Sam asked incredulously. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was joking, but after knowing her for approximately five minutes-

“That’s absolutely none of your business.” Sam replied firmly, and proceeded to turn around and actually pay full attention to his teacher for the first time that day.

He completed his work silently, able to ignore his thoughts trying to push their way out. The class ended, and Sam took a deep breath. 

It was finally time to go home.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic- please feel free to post your comments/questions/suggestions/critiques, it would all he super helpful! Thanks for reading!


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